Anya Lehnsherr | Earth 97400 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fridgetothefire) wrote2014-07-27 05:39 pm
fridgetothefire) wrote2014-07-27 05:39 pm
049 ☣ all around the mulberry bush
[Public but filtered away from the Joker; Day 1ish]
[Anya is on the hallway of level five, standing in one of the boats, tethered to the wall by a bungee cord and a hook she apparently hammered in a moment before, bobbing serenely, a dust mask loose around her neck, and a bruise forming at her temple. The rest of the boat is filled with plastic bags labeled Sam's Club. She's got a staple gun in one hand, and threads the bag handles with a zip tie, secures the loop, and then staples the whole thing to the ceiling.]
I'm trying to post bags of supplies on every level. These are from me, not him. They've got food, aspirin, and disposable dust masks, and a few with respirators. Those will be marked R in sharpie. Chemical weapons are a thing for this guy, so if you're not immune try and get one.
Don't be too trusting - anyone can get into these, so please do double-check that stuff is still sealed before you consume it, but if you can't make it up to the dining hall, I'm bring stuff down.
I've heard about several of the floors, but more information is good. What's on 1 and the Deck? What about 8? Zero? Check in.
[spam, various places, various times]
[After scrambling her way into the maintenance office, she loads up on useful tools. A crowbar and a blowtorch serve her well against the bumper cars on the way out, and again when she encounters the robotic animals on four, leaving yowling, twitching slag behind her. Sometime on day 3, she can be found loading presumably poisoned corndogs into a bag from the concessions on Level 1, before hauling them down to Level 3 and chucking them into the water for the piranas.]
[Spam for Horatio, later???ish]
[It's when she's exploring the deck that the Ferris wheel grabs her, and communicator and crow bar spilling to the deck floor as she stumbles, roughly compelled. Inside the little car, she is locked in total darkness, smaller on the inside than the outside. She feels wood. She's in a coffin, again; if she tries to carve her way out with the only tool she has remaining, most likely she will burn. She tastes the air, carefully - only mildew and pine and earth, it even smells like being buried - and then uses her mask to protect the skin of her fist as she pounds on the door, hollers. She hates this, hates it so much. The crowbar is right there.]
Help! Somebody help me! I'm trapped in here!
[Bangbangbang. So they know which one she is. It's not futile. It's tactical. It is.]
[Private to Morgana; Day 1]
Talk to me.
[Anya is on the hallway of level five, standing in one of the boats, tethered to the wall by a bungee cord and a hook she apparently hammered in a moment before, bobbing serenely, a dust mask loose around her neck, and a bruise forming at her temple. The rest of the boat is filled with plastic bags labeled Sam's Club. She's got a staple gun in one hand, and threads the bag handles with a zip tie, secures the loop, and then staples the whole thing to the ceiling.]
I'm trying to post bags of supplies on every level. These are from me, not him. They've got food, aspirin, and disposable dust masks, and a few with respirators. Those will be marked R in sharpie. Chemical weapons are a thing for this guy, so if you're not immune try and get one.
Don't be too trusting - anyone can get into these, so please do double-check that stuff is still sealed before you consume it, but if you can't make it up to the dining hall, I'm bring stuff down.
I've heard about several of the floors, but more information is good. What's on 1 and the Deck? What about 8? Zero? Check in.
[spam, various places, various times]
[After scrambling her way into the maintenance office, she loads up on useful tools. A crowbar and a blowtorch serve her well against the bumper cars on the way out, and again when she encounters the robotic animals on four, leaving yowling, twitching slag behind her. Sometime on day 3, she can be found loading presumably poisoned corndogs into a bag from the concessions on Level 1, before hauling them down to Level 3 and chucking them into the water for the piranas.]
[Spam for Horatio, later???ish]
[It's when she's exploring the deck that the Ferris wheel grabs her, and communicator and crow bar spilling to the deck floor as she stumbles, roughly compelled. Inside the little car, she is locked in total darkness, smaller on the inside than the outside. She feels wood. She's in a coffin, again; if she tries to carve her way out with the only tool she has remaining, most likely she will burn. She tastes the air, carefully - only mildew and pine and earth, it even smells like being buried - and then uses her mask to protect the skin of her fist as she pounds on the door, hollers. She hates this, hates it so much. The crowbar is right there.]
Help! Somebody help me! I'm trapped in here!
[Bangbangbang. So they know which one she is. It's not futile. It's tactical. It is.]
[Private to Morgana; Day 1]
Talk to me.
[Private]
Has your room changed at all? Mine's half-flooded since I opened the door, but I'm not hurt.
[Private]
No. I stepped out earlier, but the noise was deafening. [And she is not stepping out onto a ride, no thank you.]
[Private]
How are you stocked?
[Private]
[It won't last more than a day or two at most, but Morgana has a curious relationship with survival despite the odds. It's not as if the Sarrum expected her to last two years.]